Love, Comment, Subscribe by Cathy Yardley

CHAPTER 18

It occurred to Lily, a little late probably, that she might’ve picked an easier video than trying to make her dorky high school nemesis “hawt.” Because right now, he was shivering in a pair of boxers and a hairdresser’s cape, and talking nonstop to Santangelo, who looked like he was going to strangle his client.

Still, difficult or not, she was committed. Tobin had been right: their cross collab had been an unbelievable boost to her numbers. The bump she’d gotten from her first collab with Tobin had been impressive enough that Maria had texted her: Keep up the good work! with a bunch of smiling emojis. She knew that Maria kept casual tabs on her numbers but generally didn’t reach out unless there was a deal in the works or they were brainstorming strategy. To have Maria contact her out of the blue meant she was definitely headed in the right direction.

From here on out, she was all gas, no brakes.

“You’ve got a lot of hair,” Santangelo said, cutting across Tobin’s running commentary. “And do you ever shut up?”

“Yes,” Tobin said. “And no. Lots of hair. Like, literally every hairdresser or barber I’ve ever gone to has commented on it. And I don’t really shut up. I even talk in my sleep. Or so I’ve been told.” He frowned. “I should record that. That’d be a good video. What do you think, Lils?”

She shook her head. “I think you should let Santangelo cut your hair,” she said, then turned to Ion. Ion rolled her eyes, then pulled out her phone. In a flash, Lily’s phone buzzed softly in her pocket. She pulled it out to read Ion’s text.

ION: He’s annoying, isn’t he?

Lily grinned. Welcome to my world, she answered.

ION: remind me why you’re doing this again?

LILY: he’s got nine million subscribers and I gained over a hundred thousand just from one video with him. In a day.

Ion’s eyebrows jumped up. “No shit?” she mouthed silently, cognizant of the microphone.

Lily nodded. Which was why she was continuing the video. She had felt humiliated . . . but the numbers didn’t lie. Tobin had been right, galling as that fact was. A little embarrassment, taking a risk, moved the needle.

She was willing to do a lot to move that needle.

She may have aimed a touch too high to claim that she was going to make Tobin “hawt.” He was cute—there was no denying that. There were people all along the gender spectrum who called out his looks (and his “do-ability”) in the comments on his channel, at various points. But she wanted to make him undeniably smokin’. She wanted to be able to take him to a party full of influencers in LA and have them drool uncontrollably. She knew that was probably petty, but she didn’t feel too bad about that. Petty worked. Spite motivated her in more things than she cared to admit.

“Hey, Lily?” Santangelo said, interrupting her thoughts. “What are we thinking about the beard? Right now, he’s looking eight-o’clock shadow, and it’s only, like, noon.”

“Hey,” Tobin said, sounding a little hurt.

She walked in, knowing she was on camera. She studied Tobin’s face, holding his chin. He crossed his eyes. She ignored it. “Keep the shadow,” she said with more confidence than she felt, then surprised herself by rubbing her palm against his jaw. He had a good jaw, she realized with a start. “It looks good. Sorta Oscar Isaac-ish, you know? Sexy.”

“Sexy?” Tobin squeaked. Then he cleared his throat, pitching his voice lower. “I mean . . . yeah. Sexy.”

“Okay. But I’m shaping this bitch,” Santangelo muttered, producing his clippers and getting to work. “When we’re done here, you’re gonna get the brush and the product I told you, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” Tobin said, his eyes wide. He seemed to be mocking a little, but he also seemed a little cowed. Lily grinned at him in the mirror, and he grinned back, until Santangelo told him to knock it off “so I can work.”

“All right, I’ve got three looks here,” Ion said. “Classic, rugged, and . . . well. The third’s a combo, based on this guy’s whole ethos.”

“That sounds good.”

“What does any of that mean?” Tobin asked.

“Classic’s a suit; rugged’s, like, jeans and a tee,” Ion said.

“That doesn’t sound very makeover-y,” Tobin noted, sounding more curious than anything. “I mean . . . I don’t generally wear suits, so I guess that’ll be different. But I live in comfy clothes.”

“Yeah, that much is obvious,” Lily teased, as Santangelo brushed off his neck and shoulders, getting rid of all the small hairs and sweeping up the clippings.

“We can’t all be fashion models, Lils,” Tobin shot back. “You color coordinated your nail polish to your purse to your damned phone case. And you had, like, fifteen phone cases!”

“As opposed to you,” she said with a smirk, “who actually wore two different shoes and never noticed until I pointed it out.”

“Thankfully, I’ve got a career where, for the most part, I don’t even have to wear pants if I don’t want to,” Tobin joked. “I deliberately didn’t want a job that required me dressing like a grown-up. Now, I feel like I’m going to prom. Or what I imagine prom felt like, anyway.”

Lily blinked, then tilted her head as the memory came over her. “That’s right. You didn’t go.”

“Hey, I gamed for twenty-four hours straight over at Vinh’s house with Josh and Asad,” he said with a grin that felt slightly off. “That was way better than wearing some gross rented tux and listening to bad pop music in a hotel ballroom.”

She was going to say something cutting about gaming versus fashion, but something in his eyes made a truth suddenly hit her. She’d always assumed that he didn’t want to go to prom, like the other guys. But now, something in his tone made her wonder. Had he simply been too self-conscious? Too nervous to ask someone and go?

“Who would you have asked?” she blurted out.

He blinked. “I wouldn’t have asked anyone. I didn’t ask anyone. Because I didn’t go to prom.”

“Yeah, but if you had decided to go . . . if it weren’t some big political or ‘I’m too cool’ statement,” she pushed. “Who would you have asked?”

He frowned. Then he grinned. “Isn’t it obvious?” He winked. “I would’ve asked you. If only to piss you off.”

She shook her head. Santangelo, on the other hand, glanced at them both curiously. “You went to high school together? You knew each other?”

“Yup,” Tobin said with a grin. “She’s hated me for years.”

“We have a complicated relationship,” she said and sighed when Tobin hooted. “Okay, Goofy. Time for you to get dressed. Not that I’m not digging the boxers.”

“If I’d realized I was going to be in my undies on camera, I would’ve worn something more festive,” he said easily. “I’ve got a pair with T. rexes wielding laser guns. And a sort of strategic unicorn one, but that probably would be distracting.”

Santangelo chuckled. “Your boy’s a mess,” he said. “But a funny one. Once you get used to him.”

“He has his moments,” she said, tugging Tobin to Ion. “All right. Let’s get him set up.”

Ion pulled him behind a set of dressing screens. Ion wasn’t particularly well known, but she was incredibly talented, and she did very solid menswear. Lily had known her for several years, after meeting at a fashion influencer party where they’d both been deathly bored, and Lily was glad to be able to show Ion off on the channel. It hadn’t occurred to her before, since so much of what EverLily did was more stereotypically feminine. She pulled out her phone, making a note: more masculine-themed content, maybe?

“You got that camera ready?” Ion said.

Lily checked. “Yup, let’s go. Ready for the big reveal.”

“Are you sure?” Tobin said from behind the screen, and she heard his deep voice rumble, “I feel like an idiot.”

“Revenge is mine,” Lily said, and found herself grinning when he laughed in response. “Come on, get out here and strut that stuff. I want to see you work it.”

“All right. But if you get blown over by my sheer overpowering sexiness, it’s on you,” he warned, then chuckled again. And with that, he emerged from behind the screen.

Lily was glad that the camera was on a tripod, because if it had been in her hands, she would’ve for sure dropped it onto the concrete floor. Her jaw dropped slightly, and her eyes widened, like it would help her take in more of what she was seeing.

He was wearing a black suit that might as well have been tailored to his fit figure, broad across the shoulders but nipping into his waist. His shirt was blinding white, and his tie was a bright bloodred. His hair was perfectly groomed. Combined with the shadow, he looked like a hit man. A sexy, dangerous, sharp-as-a-razor hit man. He looked at her with surprising hesitance and a little, shy half smile. “I look stupid, don’t I?” he asked.

She swallowed, trying desperately to get some moisture in her mouth. “Try giving me a sexy look,” she said instead. Her voice, to its credit, sounded demanding.

He quirked an eyebrow, then did an exaggerated duck face. “Blue Steel!” he said, cracking himself up.

“Dude, no,” Santangelo said, shaking his head. “You cannot pick up women like that, man.”

“Good lord. Is that what I’m doing?” Tobin asked, sounding bewildered.

Santangelo stood next to him. “You need to be confident. You look rich, dangerous. Only thing missing is the confidence.”

“I have literally no idea how to do that,” Tobin said with a frustrated laugh.

“All right, let me think.” Santangelo tapped his own bearded chin with his fingertips. “You ever play, like, a tournament or something? Ever trash-talk?”

“Ye-ees,” Tobin drew out.

“Imagine some young punk-ass bitch just told you that they’re better than you,” he said. “Like, some sixteen-year-old. Or some frat boy that has maybe played, like, a month. And he’s talking shit.”

Tobin scowled. “I . . . okay.”

“Now, imagine you’re about to go into a game with him,” Santangelo prompted, backing away so it was just Tobin in the shot. “Like you’re about to destroy his ass. Like he’s a dead man, and he don’t even know it yet.”

Tobin’s smile was . . .

Oh. My. God.

Lily felt her entire body go hot as Tobin unleashed a feral smile, his whiskey-brown eyes absolutely molten. He even let out a low little chuckle that she seemed to feel in every nerve ending.

“Holy shit,” Ion murmured behind her.

“I know, right?” Lily whispered in response.

Tobin blinked, and the spell was broken. “That it? I just have to be in gaming-beast mode?”

“You wear that suit, go to a bar, and do that,” Santangelo said, nodding in approval, “and you are going to be so crowded by thirsty women, you’re going to need one of those rescue lines to get you out.”

Lily cleared her throat, realizing she was losing her grip on the video. “All right! That was awesome. Let’s go on to the next outfit.”

She thought that would help. She had a kink for guys in suits. So what if Tobin looked good in one? He still talked, and that tended to be the main problem. Besides, he wasn’t going to keep giving her “the look” either. She just needed him to go back to comfy clothes, and he wouldn’t be appealing anymore. It was the suit, not the man.

Except he did it again. He was now dressed in a pair of distressed jeans that Ion had somehow miraculously made look like he’d owned them for ages, soft as a cloud, worn in just the right places.

Did his ass look like that normally? She wanted to ask, but she was afraid of what the question might reveal about her. She simply kept filming, laughing when he goofed around.

“I like this leather jacket,” he said, examining it, twisting around. That twisting movement made the slate-blue T-shirt he was wearing pull across his chest. But at least it was relaxed. She didn’t know what she’d do if it were tighter.

“All right, last look,” Ion announced, and Lily felt a burst of relief. She’d definitely gotten in over her head on this one. “I call this ‘if a geek went jock,’ and I think it’ll work perfectly. Because . . . you know, he’s a geek. And a jock.”

“Excuse you,” Tobin said, his eyebrows jumping up. “I am hardly a jock.”

“With a body like that? Are you kidding me?” Ion said, calling him on his bullshit.

“I take care of myself,” he said with overblown wounded pride. Lily snickered.

“Well, get in there, Mr. I Take Care of Myself,” Ion said, gesturing to the changing area.

“All right, all right.”

Lily heard rustling, then a snort of disbelief. “Where’s the rest of this?”

“Just put it on!” Ion called, then turned to Lily. “This isn’t what I normally do, but I was playing with some concepts. This should be fun.”

He stepped out. He was wearing his own high-top sneakers, a pair of black basketball shorts that were obviously silky, with an almost mirror sheen. It somehow showcased his muscular legs.

She didn’t even know she liked legs that way.

“I am wearing a crop top,” he said, gesturing to his abs. “I look like a Hulk Hogan video. But, you know, Asian.”

“You look great, six-pack,” Ion said, rolling her eyes. “Relax.”

“You try relaxing when you look like an eighties Jane Fonda exercise video,” he muttered. “Does a headband come with this? Or do I order that separately?”

“Don’t make me come over there and thump you,” Ion warned, and Tobin grumbled but shut up. “There is a hoodie in there you can pull over, if you absolutely must. I made it custom for a slightly larger client, but it should fit you. Actually, that probably works better—he was taller, but his chest wasn’t as broad, so it should even out. If it doesn’t, I can find something else.”

Tobin crowed, retreating back to the dressing area. Then Lily heard him making what sounded like yummy noises.

“Oh my God, this is the softest thing I have ever felt, ever,” Tobin said. He came back out wearing the pullover hoodie, looking ecstatic. “And it’s got a wizard’s kinda hood, not one of those stupid little puny hoods! And deep pockets! Oh my God, did you line this thing with kittens? This is so frickin’ soft!”

Ion grinned.

“You gotta give me your buy links,” he enthused, bouncing around with the hood up. “And you realize I am buying this and keeping it, right? I am wearing it out of this shop. I may never take it off. I want to live in it. This is like a cloud. With a hood. This is perfect.”

Ion turned to Lily, an amused little grin on her face. “He’s like a puppy, isn’t he?”

I’m a dog . . . like a Labrador retriever.

Lily smiled back. “You know, he really is.” She turned back to Tobin. “All right. Up to this point, I would say we were successful. We have achieved hawt.”

“We did? We have?” he said, stopping his bouncing.

“Which means next video is your turn.”

He grinned. And despite the fact that he was in just a pair of athletic shorts and a hoodie, grinning like a fool, she still felt the tiniest tug . . . like she had when he’d done the sexy “I will destroy you” look in the suit.

Hmm. That would be something to consider.

“You coming to my place on Friday?”

She swallowed.

“Of course,” she said.

It was just business, after all. She could handle a man like Tobin Bui.